Welcome to Pissing Contest, a weekly story sharing circle for the the ass-draggiest time of the afternoon on the ass-draggiest time of the last day between you and the weekend (or, in this case, national holiday). Every week, we'll ask a question, you'll share stories, and we'll pick a winner that's featured in the next week's post. It's like a pyramid scheme of outdoing each other!

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All it takes is one. One man in a sea of men who lacks the self control or level of perception necessary to detect that maybe the pregnant woman who is sitting alone on a park bench reading a book and eating a salad doesn't want to be romantically wooed by a stranger who smells like Swisher Sweets.

One Seamless delivery person who, after bringing a certain Jezebel staffer her midnight order of cheese fries, mashed potatoes, and a milkshake, follows up the order by sending the following text message:

One braying idiot who compliments a woman on her excellent tits as she gingerly scoops her dog's fresh shit into a small disposable bag.

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One inept cop who thinks it's okay to call a woman the day after he helped her file a police report on her vandalized car and ask her to go out on a date.

Unwanted sexual attention from morons is an unfortunate constant in most women's (and some men's) lives. And this special Thursday before Independence Day edition of Pissing Contest focuses on just that: the most jaw droppingly inopportune time someone tried to hit on you. Catcalling, I suppose, qualifies, but the eventual winner will be a story involving a person making more prolonged conversational contact than simply a hollered "WANNA GET BETWEEN THOSE LEGS!" as you help your class of kindergarteners cross a busy street.

I went on a date with my highest match on OkCupid. We exchanged a few messages and he seemed like a harmless weirdo, which happens to be my favorite type of guy. I agreed to meet him for dinner.

He showed up 15 minutes late and looked really annoyed about taking the bus to meet me, even though he picked the location. We sat down and he immediately ordered a whiskey sour. He obsessively put on Chapstick. The date wasn't going well.

He handed me an autobiographical comic book and told me not to read it until after our date. He ordered two more whiskey sours. That's three whiskey sorus before our food even arrived. I struggled through conversation with him and mostly talked about himself. Our food came and I was excited because it meant I was that much closer to a polite end to this date.

Then he told me he didn't like dogs. Fine, lots of people don't like dogs. Except he happens to kick them when no one is looking. Nope nope nope. I got up and left. As I was walking away he asks "so can I call you later this week?"

I returned home and my roommate and I poured over his horrifying comic book. Every page was a fact about him "[Insert name]'s penis twists to the side" with a graphic drawing of his penis. "[Insert name] loves Japan" with a picture of him fucking a geisha. "[Insert name] would give someone an abortion." Just horrible entry after horrible entry.

I can't help but think the date was just a joke or experiment a la "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days".